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Are you looking at your 

collection, Hal ? ” said Ethel. 






THE 


KINGFISHER’S EGG 


BY 

L. S. MEADE 

!no 

Other Stories 

by 

ELLIS WALTON 
GERALDINE R. GLASGOW 

AND 

OLIVE MOLESWORTH 






G7188 

-——- — --- 1 

y of 

j iwu Lwitz KcctwEO 

OCT 27 1900 j 

^‘V&W'Vv 

SECOND COPY. j 

Ufct'vtw*' ♦# 

OfiOtH DESIGN, ' 

OCT 30 1900 




Copyright, 1900, by HENRY ALTEMUS COMPANY. 


LC Control Number 



































H AL stood and gazed. They really made a splendid collec¬ 
tion. Nearly every egg in his native place was repre¬ 
sented. He handled them with loving fingers and looked up in 
great excitement as a gay voice sounded in the passage, and a 
small girl nearly his own age rushed into the room. 

“ Oh! are you there, Hal? ” she exclaimed in an eager voice, 
“and are you looking at your collection? Now I do wonder 
which of us will succeed. Uncle Ralph comes this evening, and 
we are to bring him our collections at ten o’clock to-morrow 
morning. I wonder if I shall win the prize. I have planned 
so often what I will do with my ten shillings.” 

“ Your ten shillings,” said Hal, giving a contemptuous 
glance at his little sister; “ so you think that your collection 
is the better one? ” 

“Oh! I don’t know; perhaps it isn’t. I shan’t be really 
s^rry if you get the prize, only you know it is nice to build 

5 


6 


THE KINGFISHER’S EGG. 


castles in the air, and when I sit out in the garden and 
there’s nobody by, I think perhaps my eggs are the most perfect, 
and that Uncle Ealph will give me that dear little bit of gold. 
Think what it will mean to have ten whole shillings all one’s 
very own! I shall certainly make my money go as far as possible 
when once I have it.” 

“What a little stupid you are!” said Hal; “I shall do 
nothing of the sort. I have planned what I’ll do with my 
money.” 

“What?” asked the little sister. 

“ Well, I shall buy half a sovereign’s worth of fireworks, 
and have a good flare-up on the lawn.” 

“ I wonder which of us will get it? ” said Ethel very slowly. 
“May I take one peep into your collection, Hal?” 

“ Nothing of the sort,” said Hal, backing as his sister 
approached the table. “You know the plan was that neither of 
us was to see the other’s collection, and whoever had the most 
perfect set, without duplicates, was to win the prize.” 

“ Oh! yes, I know,” said Ethel, “ and of course I won’t 
peep; I wouldn’t be so mean.” 

She ran off, singing gaily as she did so, and Hal carried 
his box of treasures to the window, and looked at them again 
with fresh approval. 

“ Ethel cannot have as many eggs as I have,” he said to 
himself; “she is not able to climb so well, nor to go so far, 
nor to poke about so much. Oh! that wren’s egg, what a 
beauty it is, and that robin’s egg, and this rook’s, and all 
the different finches, and the owl’s egg is quite uncommon. 
If only I had the egg of the kingfisher I believe I have a 
complete set. I do wish I could get a kingfisher’s egg. Then, 
of course, Ethel would not have a chance. It would be quite 


THE KINGFISHER’S EGG. 


7 


1 / 


too killing if Ethel did get the prize, but of course she won’t; 
she hasn’t the ghost of a chance.” 

The little boy returned his eggs to their place in the 
school-room cupboard and ran out. It was a beautiful evening 
towards the middle of May. He strolled down to the bank of 
the river, and, throwing himself on the grass, continued to 
indulge in those brilliant day-dreams in the center of which 
lay Uncle Ralph’s prize. If only he could get a kingfisher’s 
egg the ten shillings would be his. 

It was a warm evening for the time of year, and presently 
Hal dropped off to sleep. 

. He was wak¬ 
ened by the sound 
of voices quite near 
him. They came 
from the other side 
of a thick hawthorn- 
tree. 

He was just about 
to sing out, “ Hullo, 
who’s there? ” when 
the following words 
fell distinctly on his 
ears: “Oh! George, 
is it possible? Have 
you really got one to 
give me? ” 

“That I have, 
miss; it was only 
last night I found 
the nest. There were 



8 


THE KINGFISHER’S EGG. 


eight eggs in it, and I took two, one for myself and one for yon, 
Miss Ethel. I always wished to do something for you, missie, 
because you are not rude to me like Master Hal, and you give me 
books to read now and then. Here’s the egg, miss; you’re wel¬ 
come to it.” 

“ A real kingfisher’s egg, and what a beauty! But I do 
wish you would give the other one to Hal.” 

“ I won’t, and that’s flat,” replied the boy. “ Here, miss, 
take your egg; shall I blow it out for you?” 

“ You’ll be sure not to break it, George? ” 

“ No, miss, I know how to blow eggs.” 

There was a pause, and a moment later Ethel’s voice was 
heard again. 

.“ You’ve done it beautifully,” she cried; “ what a lovely, 
lovely egg, it’s so long and so white! Were there really eight 
eggs in the nest? ” 

“Yes, miss, I only took two; you might be punished for 
stealing the egg of the kingfisher, so I did not dare to take more 
than two.” 

“Where did you say you found the nest? I have b6en 
searching all over the place, and so has Hal.” 

George uttered a loud gleeful laugh. “Master Hal don’t 
know everything,” he cried, “ nor do you, Miss Ethel. Where 
the nest is, is my secret, and I’m not going to tell it, not to 
anybody. But there! you have got your egg, and the other one 
belongs to me, and that’s as it should be.” 

Ethel was heard running away, and Hal, whose heart beat 
fast, remained motionless by the bank of the river. A passionate 
rage filled his heart. Without doubt now Ethel would win 
the prize. The kingfisher’s egg would turn the balance in 
her favor; he had not a chance. But stay, George had another 
egg in his pocket. 


9 


THE KINGFISHER'S EGG. 



It mattered nothing to Hal just then that he had always 
teased George, that he had made the poor boy’s life a burden 
to him, that he had sent him on false errands, and laughed at 
him when he was punished as only a rude boy can, and that he 
had told of him when he stole apples out of the orchard. All 
these things were forgotten now. 

George had secured a kingfisher’s egg for himself. That 
egg must get into Hal’s possession at any cost. So he crept 
slowly round the hawthorn-tree on his hands and knees. George 
had seated himself by the bank, holding the egg in the palm 
of his hand. He was looking at it lovingly. Hal determined 
to creep up behind, snatch the kingfisher’s egg, and run off. 
He had nearly succeeded in getting close to George, when a 

2—Kingfisher 



10 


THE KINGFISHER’S EGG. 


twig cracked. The gamekeeper’s son sprang to liis feet, saw 
Hal, guessed what he was about to do, and uttered a loud 
laugh. 

“Ho, you don’t,” he said, “you don’t get this egg. You 
thought you would snatch it, but you’re just too late.” 

“ But I say, George,” cried Hal, “ don’t be rough on a 
fellow. I have never even seen a kingfisher’s egg; do show it 
to me.” 

“ You keep your distance if I do. Stand there, you don’t 
come nigh me; you can look at the egg from here.” George 
tenderly drew the egg out of his pocket and let Hal view it at 
a distance. 

“It’s a very pretty egg; I wish I might see it nearer,” 
said Hal. 

“ You don’t see it any nearer.” 

“ But I say, George, I want that egg; you must give it 
to me.” 

“ Must! I like that,” laughed George. 

“I’ll fight you for it.” 

“Ho, you won’t, Master Hal; I don’t want to fight, it’s 
very wrong to fight, and you won’t get the egg whether you 
fight or not. It’s for my own collection. Why shouldn’t I 
have collections of eggs as well as little gentlefolks like you? 
Good night, Master Hal.” 

“ Stay, George, I have got sixpence in my pocket,” said 
Hal; “you shall have sixpence if you give me that egg.” 

“You can keep your sixpence; you don’t get the king¬ 
fisher’s egg.” 

George laughed loudly. He slipped the egg back into his 
pocket and ran away as fast as his legs would carry him. lie 
was a much bigger boy than Hal, and Ilal knew that it was 


THE KINGFISHER’S EGG. 


11 


useless to follow him. His heart swelled with passion, his face 
was crimson, he stamped his foot and clenched his fist. “I’ll 
he even with George yet,” he muttered; “if he found a' nest 
why shouldn’t I? I’ll begin to look right away. Yes, I’ll find 
that nest before I go to sleep.” 

He commenced his search; he wandered a long way— 
there was not a nook anywhere near he did not explore, not 
a likely hole by the bed of the river that he did not thrust 
his stick into, but search as he would he could nowhere find 
the kingfisher’s nest. At last he had to own himself beaten and 
returned home. 

That night he could not sleep. The moon was shining into 
his room; it shone in a straight bar of light, and fell across 
his pillow. He felt uncomfortable and moved his head. Still 
the moon with its bright light followed him. At last he got 
out of bed to draw down the blinds. As he did so he looked 
out on the moonlit garden. 

“How very bright it is,” he said to himself; “I do believe 
if I went out now I might find the kingfisher’s nest; I have a 
good mind to try.” 

Ho sooner had the thought come to him than he resolved 
to act on it. He slipped on his clothes, unfastened his room 
door, and went out. He went quietly downstairs; the moon was 
shining through the big lobby window, and it made bars of light 
on the stairs. 

All the doors were locked, but he remembered a certain 
window through which he could squeeze. He got out and found 
himself in the garden. It was cold at this hour in the garden, 
and Hal had forgotten his hat. “ Ho matter,” he said to himself, 
“ brave boys do not feel the cold.” 

He ran down to the river and began his search. He 


12 


THE KINGFISHER’S EGG. 


searched more carefully than ever, and the rabbits came out 
of their holes and looked at him, and some pigeons cooed in 
a distracting manner in a tree over his head. Nowhere could 
he find the kingfisher’s nest. He had to give it up in despair. 
“ But I will not let Ethel win the prize/’ he muttered to himself; 
“ all the fellows at school would crow over me. I have talked 
so much about Uncle Ralph and the prize he is to give me for 
my collection of eggs.” 

He walked slowly home; the moon was setting now, the 
brightness had left the garden, it was really cold, and the whole 
place was full of long dark shadows. 

Suddenly Hal stood still and clasped his hands, while the 
color rushed into his face, for a daring thought, a wicked thought 
also, had come into his little brain. Why should not he go and 
steal the kingfisher’s egg from George? 

No sooner had the thought come to him than he resolved 
to act upon it. He could surely make it up to George afterwards; 
he could give him a shilling out of his prize. Anything was 
better than to be beaten—beaten by a girl too. 

He retraced his steps and started off running rapidly towards 
the gamekeeper’s cottage. The cottage was in the middle of 
the wood, in a very dark part. He had not gone a dozen yards 
before he felt the queerest sensation of nervous fear creeping 
over him. Even if he reached the cottage he would not know 
where George kept his eggs, and Sultan, the gamekeeper’s 
mastiff, was loose at night. 

He turned away with a little groan. Then another thought, 
even more wicked than the first, visited him. How silly he was 
to think of stealing the egg from George; how much easier 
it would be to take the egg from Ethel. He knew exactly where 
Ethel kept her collection; he could take the egg and put it 


13 



THE I^INGFISHER’S EGG. 


amongst his own. He 
knew Ethel—oh! yes, 
he knew her well. She 
was good, she was 
staunch, she was brave: 
she might be hurt, but 
she would never betray 
him, and when he had 
got the glory and 
honor of winning the 
prize, he would give 
her back her egg and 
share the money with 
her. Yes, she could 
have half of his prize. 

What more could a 
boy do ? 

He crept back 
into the house. It was 
very dark indoors, and 
in spite of himself his heart beat hard, but his determination to 
help himself to Ethel’s treasure never faltered. Ele soon reached 
the school-room where Ethel kept her collection. The door of 
the cupboard was slightly ajar. Hal felt about, found Ethel’s 
box, and placed it on the table. He then began to feel on the 
chimney-piece for some matches. He discovered a box, and the 
next moment had lit a candle. He opened Ethel’s treasure-box 
and peeped in. When he did so he gave a start of dismay, for 
the contents of the box were very beautiful. They were not 
only beautiful in themselves, but they were most neatly and 
prettily arranged. Ethel had put in cotton wool of different 


14 


THE KINGFISHER’S EGG. 


colors, and had made neat little cardboard divisions between 
the eggs—these she had decorated with a pretty scroll¬ 
work from her box of water-colors. Each egg was labeled 
with its proper name, and the whole thing looked absolutely 
scientific. Hal quite shivered. What chance had he beside 
Ethel? Why, Ethel’s collection was perfect. There was the 
egg of the wren, the robin, the blackbird, and almost every 
kind of finch, but look as he would—and he was now almost 
glueing his eyes to the box—nowhere could he find the king¬ 
fisher’s egg. 

With a very deep sigh of disappointment, owning to 
himself that Ethel was too deep for him, he returned the box 
to the cupboard and crept back to bed. He got into bed, 
lay there shivering for an hour, and then dropped asleep. It 
was early morning when he was wakened. The sun was shining, 
the day was beautiful, and standing at the foot of his bed was 
his little sister. 

"I thought I’d wake you, Hal,” she said; "it is nearly 
seven o’clock, and if we work hard for an hour we may get it 
all done.” 

" Get what done?” said Hal. 

" Why, we can put your eggs in order. I want you to 
have a fair chance of winning the prize. I don’t think you 
have made your eggs look as nice as I have, and I have 
brought some cotton wool, both pink and white, and some 
pretty labels, and if we work for a good hour we shall get them 
all settled.” 

" But it isn’t fair that you should settle my eggs,” said 

Hal. 

His face went very red, and his heart thumped against his 
side, for he could not understand Ethel. 


THE KINGFISHER’S EGG. 


15 


“It’s quite fair, if I like to do it,” she replied; “mine are 
in perfect, lovely order. I want yours to be the same. See, 
Hal, how neatly I have printed the labels, and I have got 
some cardboard divisions, too, with a pretty pattern on them. 
We’ll do your eggs in a jiffy. Come, Ilal. Why, what is 
the matter? ” 

“ I can’t,” he said now, and his voice began to shake. 



“Oh! yes, you can; do get dressed and come down. I’ll 
be waiting for you in the school room.” 

Ethel ran out of the room, and Hal slowly, as if his 
limbs were weighted with lead, proceeded to put on his clothes. 
He certainly did not understand Ethel. She was making 
him feel terribly uncomfortable; he could not think what w 7 as 
the matter. 

A moment later he had joined his little sister in the 
school-room. 


16 


THE KINGFISHER’S EGG. 


“ Get your box out and let’s begin/’ slie said. 

“ But I say, Ethel, it isn’t fair; you mustn’t do it. I 
thought we were both to make the collection without being 
helped by the other.” 

“Yes, but I have changed my mind,” said Ethel. “Hal, 
darling, I—oh! give me your box.” 

Hal brought his box from the cupboard, placed it on the 
table, and Ethel looked at it. 

“ You would never get the prize with eggs arranged like 
this,” she said. “ Take them out as quickly as you can.” 

He took them out and Ethel began to put in the 
divisions. 

“What is that division for in the middle? ” asked the boy. 

“ I will tell you in a minute. Here, I am going to put this 
pink cotton wool inside; it will show up the egg so beautifully.” 
As she spoke Ethel softly laid a long, white egg on the pink wool. 
Hal’s eyes began to dance. 

“ Oh! Ethel, Ethel, it is the kingfisher’s egg. Did George 
give you two eggs? ” 

“ Ho, he wants the other for himself.” 

“Then, what is this one doing here?” 

“ It is for you, Hal.” 

“For me? For me, Ethel?” 

“Yes, it is for you.” Ethel’s little face turned very red. 

“I was so glad when I got it yesterday,” she said, “that 
at first I thought of nothing but the prize, and I was so 
excited I could not sleep. But I had a dream in the night, 
Hal—a queer dream it was—about you. I thought I had the 
prize, but that you were miserable. You see, you are a 
boy and you go to school, and it meant a great deal to you 
not getting the prize, and I saw you in my dream so miserable, 



VXy^v^. 


Hal’s face had grown first white and then red, 
and then all of a sudden the tears burst 
from his eyes. 




18 


THE KINGFISHER’S EGG. 


and then I was miserable too, Hal, darling, and the prize did 
me no good, and towards the end of the dream I seemed to 
hear a voice saying to me: f You will be awfully happy if 
Ilal gets the prize; you w T on’t know yourself you’ll be so 
happy.’ And I woke up, and there were tears on my face, and 
then I made up my mind all in an instant. So you are to have 
the kingfisher’s egg and you are to have the prize. Why, Hal, 
what is the matter? ” 

Hal’s face had grown first white and then red, his eyes 
felt as if they would start from his head, he had the queerest 
sensations in his throat as if someone were choking him, 
and then all of a sudden the tears burst from his eyes and 
love shone in the tears, and the stiffness went out of his 
throat, because his lips broke into smiles, and his arms were 
round Ethel’s neck. 

“ Oh! Ethel, you’re a brick,” he said, “ and I love you 
with all my heart. There, I’ll tell you what I did in the 
night. You will hate me, but I must tell you. Sit down, I must 
tell you.” 

So Hal told his story, and all the time he was speaking 
Ethel’s arms were round his neck, and when he had finished 
she said to him: 

“ I know why the dream came; it was because God wanted 
me to help you. There, Hal, I was never so happy in my life, 
and of course you’ll get the prize.” 

“ We will divide it between us and we’ll both be happy, 
and it will be the prize for us both,” said Hal. “ There, let 
us go down to breakfast. I declare you are the joiliest girl in 
all the world.” 



H & was not a real pig, though he was quite as ugly as any 
pig that ever has been seen, and he had been sent all the 
way from Norway to England as a present for Cecil. 

He was made of earthenware, and had a slit running 
down the middle of his back, where a real pig’s spine 
should be, through which to drop any money you wanted 
him to keep for you. In shape he was rather like a small, 
4 fat sausage, standing on four little stumps by way of legs, 
his tail lay in a flat curl at one end of his funny little body, 
and at the other a big snout stuck out crowned by two ears, 
while round his neck he wore what Cecil thought was meant 
for a collar. 

“ He’s very sweet,” said Cecil to his Mother, on the morning 
of the pig’s arrival; “ he has such a nice way of looking at you, 
hasn’t he, Mamma ? ” 

Mamma laughed. 

“ I can see hardly any eyes at all,” she said. “ I should say 
he was certainly more useful than sweet.” 

Cecil looked puzzled. 

“Useful,” he repeated; “why, Mamma, what can he do?” 
“He can hold your money, of course,” said his Mother; 

19 






20 


THE PENNY PIG. 


“that’s what lie’s made for. You were asking me for a 
money-box the other day to put your pennies into ”—Cecil 
had been saving up his weekly allowances very carefully . 
for a most particular reason—“ and you couldn’t have any- j 
thing safer than your little pig. I’d certainly use him for 
that.” 

Cecil thought over his Mother’s words, and ended by 
dropping all his savings through the slit in the pig’s back. 

“ I hope they are not too heavy for him, though,” he 
thought anxiously, as he slipped the coins in one after another. 

“ He won’t hold many more, I think; but I’ve only three other 
allowances to put in before Papa’s birthday, so that won’t be 
too much for him.” 

That night, as he was going to bed, he took care to place 
the pig beside the night-light, where he could see him the last 
thing before he went to sleep. 

“ I love him so already that I couldn’t bear him to feel 
lonely,” he thought to himself. 

The three weeks before the birthday passed quickly, and 
every day Cecil grew fonder than ever of his money-box pig 
—Jack, as he had called him. Ho one was aware of this, for he 
was rather a silent little boy and not very fond of telling others 
what he was thinking about. Perhaps, too, he was afraid of 
being laughed at, for grown-up people—even Mamma—did 
laugh at him sometimes, and this Cecil couldn’t bear, so he 
never told anyone of his devotion to his little pig. 

At length the much looked-forward-to day arrived when 
he was to go out, with his Mother, to buy Papa’s present. He 
had settled what it was to be—a photograph frame in soft brown 
leather, which was to hold Cecil’s own photograph. 

“You must be ready by three o’clock this afternoon,” 


THE PENNY PIG. 


21 


Mamma said to him in the morning, and he promised he 
would he. 

At a quarter to three he was already dressed, and 
taking his pig in his hand he ran down to his Mother’s 
room. The money made a nice little jingling sound inside 
Jack, who by this time could not have held even another 
threepenny bit. 

“ That’s right,” said Mamma, as he ran in. “ I’ll be ready 
very soon. Have you brought your money, Cis ? ” 

“ Yes,” lie answered, holding up Jack for her to see. 

“ But you don’t mean to take that to the shop, surely, dear,” 
she said. “ You’d better take out your savings now.” 

Cecil turned his pig upside down and shook him, gently at 
first, then harder. 

“Mamma,” he said, rather anxiously, “nothing will come! 
Look—won’t you get it out for me? ” 

“ You can do it yourself,” answered Mamma, who was busy 
arranging her veil before the glass; “just take the poker and 
give it a little knock—it will break quite easily.” 

Cecil couldn’t believe his ears. 

“Break,” he repeated, “break Jack, Mamma?” 

“Yes, of course! How did you expect to get your money 
out? ” asked his Mother. “ It is the only thing to do.” 

“ Mamma,” said Cecil in a very low voice, “ you can’t mean 
that—that I’ll have to kill Jack? ” He stopped—his little face 
had grown quite white. 

His Mother turned and looked at him; in a second she 
understood all. 

“ My poor little boy,” she said, “ it is all my fault, but I 
never thought that you cared for that ugly little pig.” 


22 


THE PENNY PIG. 


Cecil stared at Jack without speaking; he was trying to 
make up his mind. 

“ Don’t be unhappy/’ his Mother went on. “ I can give 
you more money for Papa, and so-” 

“ But it wouldn’t he from me then/’ said Cecil. “ Oh, how 
I’ve saved and saved. And oh! Jack, dear Jack, I will have to 
kill you; but I can't, I can’t. Oh! what shall I do? ” 

He burst into a flood of tears as he spoke. Mamma put 
out her hand and took the pig from him. She looked over him 
carefully. Cecil was crying, so he did not see what she was 
doing; but suddenly a loud jingle of money made him look up. 
What had happened? 

Had Mamma broken Jack herself ? 

At first he thought she had, for in one hand she held the 
pig’s body, in the other his head! 

“ It’s all right,” she said, in a very glad voice. “ Jack’s 
head unscrews at the crack, where the collar is, and the money 
came out at once. See, I’ll screw it on again and he’ll be as 
well as ever.” 

She did so as she spoke. Cecil could hardly believe his eyes. 
He sprang forward and seized Jack; then he jumped on to his 
Mother’s knee and kissed her again and again. 

“ Oh! Mamma, Mamma,” he cried, too happy to say more. 

Mamma looked as pleased as he did. 

“ Pick up your money quickly, and let us be off,” she said. 
“ Jack can stay in this safe corner till we come back.” 

And Jack, as usual, seemed perfectly contented to do 
anything that was required of him. 




I T was just seven o’clock in the morning, and Christabel 
was snuggling down under the clothes, hoping that Nurse 
was not going to make her get up yet, when, all of a 
sudden, a horrible noise sounded in her ears. Christabel 
started up, her face crimson with passion, and her fingers in 
her ears. 

“Oh, you naughty, naughty boy,” she said, “I hate you; 
take away your horrid trumpet.” 

Martin leant over the crib, and blew another blast; 
he was laughing so much that he could not keep the 
trumpet steady, but he went dodging after her as she dived 
about the bed, scattering the quilt and the blankets on to 
the floor. 

“ I’m a man on a coach,” he cried. “ Oh! Chris, you 
look so funny, you’re as red as a turkey-cock, only turkey- 
cocks don’t put fingers in their ears! Hi! that was a 
good one! ” 

“ You wicked, horrid, unkind boy,” panted Chris, “ I hate 

23 





24 


CHRIST ABEL'S WISH. 



you worser than anything I know. I tell you I hate you.” 

“Oh! come, come, Miss Chris,” said* Nurse, bursting into 
the room. “ Those are not nice words for a young lady.” 

Christabel w T as still very red, and great tears were 
pouring down her cheeks. She sat huddled up on her 
pillow, with a very unpleasant look upon her face. Little 
girls of four years old do not look very nice when they are 
in a temper. 

“ I shall hate him if I like,” she said sulkily. 

“ Then I shall ask your Mamma to come and speak to you, 
Miss Christabel,” said Nurse, but apparently Mamma did not 
need sending for, because at that moment the door opened, and 
she looked in. 

For a moment Christabel did not see her, as she had 
turned her cross little face to Nurse. “ I wish there was no 
Martin in the world,” she cried passionately. “ I wish I needn’t 
never see him again.” 

“Very well,” said Mother, very quietly. “Do you know 



CHRISTABEL’S WISH. 


25 


Mothers are like fairies sometimes, and can give you your wishes? 
So take care, Christabel, what you say.” 

“ I do wish it,” said Christabel. 

“ Then say good-bye to Martin,” said Mother, “ for he is 
going away.” 

“ I won’t say good-bye,” said Christabel. She turned her 
face into the pillow, and shut her eyes. Everything was so 
still that, after a minute, she lifted her face and looked 
fearfully round. Mother was gone, Martin was gone, and 
only Nurse was standing by the fire, warming Christabel’s 
bronze shoes. 


II. 

“ Come, Miss Christabel,” said Nurse. “ I’ve let you lie as 
long as you could, and now you must get up this minute, and 
dress as fast as you can, whilst Susan keeps your bread-and-milk 
hot.” 

Christabel climbed out of her crib as slowly as she 
could, and began to put on her clothes, but nothing seemed 
to go right. She couldn’t get the buttons to fasten or the 
strings to tie, and every moment she felt crosser and crosser, 
until at last she could bear it no longer, and burst into tears. 
Now Christabel was rather fond of crying, and when she once 
began the tears would simply roll down her cheeks until her 
pinafore was quite wet, so Nurse thought it wiser to come to 
the rescue. 

u Come along, my dear,” she said, “ crying won’t dress 
you, and in another half-minute I shall have to hang you 
out over the towel-horse to dry. Just bring me the brush 
and stand still, and I’ll have you ready in no time. Now 

4—Kingfisher 



26 


CHRISTABEL’S WISH. 


if Master Martin was here-” but directly she said the 

name Christabel’s face changed and put on such a dis¬ 
agreeable expression that she stopped. “ Well, well/’ she 
said, “ it’s a good thing he’s not here. Now eat your break¬ 
fast, and then you can play with the bricks whilst Susan 
washes up.” 

Now Christabel hated playing by herself, and especially 
building houses of bricks, because her houses were never straight, 
and they always fell with a crash when she reached the second 
story; but it was no use contradicting Nurse, so she sat down 
in a lonely corner after breakfast and tried to pretend that she 
was amused. 

Nurse and Susan made the beds, and tidied up the rooms, 
and talked together in low tones, but they never once spoke to 
Christabel. They had nothing to say to a sulky little girl, 
who kept stamping with temper in her corner every time 
the brick houses fell down. 



Presently, however, the nursery door 
opened very gently, and Christabel 
started up, with her face crimson; but 
it was only Mother who came in, with 
some work for the sewing machine 
under her arm. 


Christabel ran up to her, scatter- 


L 


ing the bricks right and left. 

“ Oh, Mother, I am so dull,” she 


ing the br 
“ Oh, 



said; “won’t vou help me?” 


said; “ 


won’t you help me? ” 


“ Oh! no, dear; I 


can’t,” said h e r 
Mother. “I have all 




this work to do; it is 
dull alone, isn’t it? V 



CHRISTABEL’S WISH. 


27 



“ No, I’m not. a bit dull,” said Christabel, her face clouding 
over. “ Let me help you , Mother.” 

“Oh! no, you can’t help me,” said Mother; “you must 
go on playing until Susan is ready to take you out.” 
Christabel sat down again, feeling very cross and a little 
unhappy. By-and-by, when Nurse had finished the rooms, 




28 


CHRISTABEL’S WISH. 


she put on Christabel’s warm white coat and hat, and told 
Susan to go out and get ready for the walk. “ But mind, Susan,” 
she said, “ that you do not let go of Miss Christabel’s hand. 
It is all very well when Master Martin is there, but it’s quite 
another thing to-day.” 

“ But I want to take my hoop, Nursie,” said Christabel. 

“ Oh! no, you can’t, not to-day,” said Nurse. “ Susan can’t 
be running in and out of the people after you. You’ll just have 
to walk like a little lady, holding her hand.” 

“ Then I won’t go out at all,” said Christabel. 

“ Oh, yes, you must go out, dear,” said her Mother; “ run 
away, and see how little trouble you can give.” 

Directly they got outside Christabel began to chatter to 
Susan about all she and her dolls were going to do when they 
went to the seaside in the summer, and she was beginning to feel 
really happy, when Susan said, in rather a cross voice: 

“Do, for goodness’ sake, Miss Christabel, keep quiet for 
five minutes; I’ve ever so many messages to do, and you 
go rambling on as if you were the only person in the world. 
It just bewilders me so I can’t put two ideas together.” 
Christabel stopped talking suddenly and did not speak again; 
once, as she clung to Susan’s hand, she fancied she saw a check 
overcoat in front of her, and she made a little run forward to 
see who it was, but Susan pulled her back roughly, and told 
her not to go on in that silly w T ay. “ Just look in the shops, 
miss, and walk like a Christian,” said Susan, which it seemed 
to Christabel was about the dullest thing she had ever been 
asked to do. 

“ I’m afraid it’s very dull for you without Master Martin,” 
said Nurse, when she was undressing Chris, and saw how quiet 
and pale she looked. 


CHRISTABEL’S WISH. 


29 


But Chris got as red as a peony at once, and said 
hurriedly: “It isn’t one-half as dull as walking like a 
Christian.” 

III. 

In the meantime Martin had been spending a very unusual 
morning alone with Mother. He had had a delicious breakfast 
of buttered toast and jam and porridge, and after that Mother 
had left him with all his picture-books to amuse him, 
whilst she went into the nursery to work the sewing- 
machine. When she came back, she was rather surprised to find 
him sitting quite still upon a little stool, with his cheek resting 
on his hand. 

“ Why, come, Martin,” said Mother, smiling. “ I am 
longing to go out this lovely morning. Put on your coat and 
you shall come and do all my shopping with me.” 

Martin jumped up obediently, but he did not look par¬ 
ticularly happy, and all through the walk he had a tire¬ 
some way of loitering. Directly they got home, he darted 
upstairs, and for some time Mother could not think where 
he had gone. When she found him, he was kneeling up on 
the drawing-room window-sill with his round face pressed 
against the glass and an eager look in his eyes. He turned 
anxiously to his Mother as she came in. “ Oh, Mother, I’ve 
found out something you will like. If you squeeze yourself 
up in this corner, and squash your face up against the glass, 
you can just see the least little corner of Christabel’s hat as 
she comes in.” 

“ That’s right,” said Mother cheerfully. 

Just then the luncheon bell rang, and he heard his Father’s 
step in the hall, so he ran into Mother’s room to brush his hair 
and see that his necktie was neatly tied. 


30 


CHRIST ABEL’S WISH. 


Generally he loved this meal. 

It was so nice to see Father in his uniform, and to ask him 
lots of questions about the men, and the horses, and the camp; 
but to-day, somehow, nothing seemed of so much importance as 
that tiny corner of Chris’s hat, that he had caught sight of for 
a minute. 

Presently pudding was brought—a little slice of apple tart 
on a plate for Martin—and cheese for Father, and he took up 
his spoon silently. 

Then he let it drop with a little bang. 

“ Mother,” he said earnestly, “ are nursery dinners as nice 
as dining-room dinners? ” 

“ Yes, dear—generally—quite.” 

“ But is it as nice to-day? ” he persisted, with a queer little 
catch in his voice. 

“ Let me see! well, not quite to-day, perhaps. There was 
only that little scrap of tart left from last night, and, as you had 
been good, and Cliristabel hadn’t, I told Cook to give it to you.” 

Fie pushed the plate away. 

“ I don’t care—not much—for tart, Mother; please may 
Chris have it? ” 

“ Yes, dear, certainly, if you wish. John shall take it to 
her; but remember, darling, I have no more to give you; that 
is the only little bit there was.” 

But Martin hardly heard her, he was pushing out his plate 
eagerly to John. “ This is for Christabel, John—in the nursery. 
Give it to her, please, and tell her I sent it to her.” John took 
the plate quite calmly and pushed all the fragments together 
with a fork. 

“I will, sir,” he said, and then he went silently and 
solemnly away. 


It was so nice to see Father 
in his uniform. 





32 


CHRISTABEL’S WISH. 


In about five minutes, Martin, who was watching the door 
breathlessly, saw him come in again, and take up his station 
behind his master’s chair. 

He burst out at once: “ Did you give it to her, John? ” 

“ I did, sir.” 

“ Did she say ‘ thank you ’ ? ” 

“ Ho, sir,” said John, with a sniff, “ to speak truthfully, 
she didn’t.” 

“ Oh! ” Martin’s face fell. 

“ What did she say, John? ” 

“Well,” said John, with aggravating distinctness, “if I 
remember rightly, Miss Chris’s exact words was, ‘ I think apple 
pie is more horrid than rice.’ ” 

“Then she isn’t eating it?” said Martin, in a heart¬ 
broken voice. 

“ Begging your pardon, she is, sir, almost before I had left 
the room.” 

“ Oh! then, that’s only Christabel’s funny way—it is a 
funny way, isn’t it, Mother? You know she says things like 
that when she likes it awfully, all the time; and if John 
hadn’t seen her eating it, I might have believed all day she 
liked the rice best.” 

* * * * * * 

Martin sat most of the afternoon doing absolutely nothing 
but yawning, until his Mother was quite in despair; but it was 
only in the middle of tea that he quite broke down. He pushed 
his plate of muffin away from him, and burst out into loud 
sobs. “ Don’t punish me any more, Mother,” he said; “ I’m 
quite sorry enough.” 

For a minute Mother did not really quite know what to 
do, but she got up and came and stood beside him, and smoothed 


CHRISTABEL’S WISH. 


33 


his hair with her hand. “ My dear Martin, I am not punishing 
you,” she said; “I am punishing Chris. I think by to-morrow 
morning she will be quite good again; there, eat your tea, and 
don’t cry any more.” 

But Martin went on sobbing. 

“ Oh, but, Mother, I was naughty too—I blew the trumpet 
in her ear because I knew it would make her cross.” 

“ Then it is a little punishment to you, too, Martin. I can’t 
help that. I can’t help punishments coming after you have been 
naughty. They come of themselves.” 

“ But it has lasted such a long time,” said poor Martin, 
disconsolately; “ generally it only 
lasts about half an hour, but this 
punishment has lasted all day, and 
I don’t like it! ” 

“ Well, it won’t last much 
longer,” said his Mother; “ only 
for to-night. I have had your 
crib moved into my room, but 
you may get up at cockcrow, 
if you like, and go in to Christabel. 
I am sure she will be longing 
for you.” 

“ I don’t care if she isn’t,” 
said Martin, eagerly. “ I want 
her—I don’t care if she says like 
she did about the rice pudding— 
you know, Mother.” 

“ That’s all right,” said 
Mother. “ Come, now, Martin, 
another muffin, and a little more 
tea?” 



34 


CHRISTABEL’S WISH. 


“Another muffin? ” Nurse was saying in the nursery at 
almost the same minute. “ There, Miss Chris, there’s a nice cup 
of tea, and your own chair; you have been a bit mopey this 
afternoon, love, but the tea’ll make you feel better.” 

Chris was sitting curled up in the basket chair, with her 
face hidden. “ I don’t want any tea,” she said in a choked voice. 

“ Oh, yes, you do,” said Nurse; “ here, try a bit of muffin— 
it came from Mother’s tea in the drawing-room.” 

“ Muffins are horrid,” said the choked voice again. 

“Well, I won’t press you,” said Nurse; “me and Susan’ll 
just eat ours, and then I’ll get you to bed soon, with a nice cup 
of bread-and-milk, and Mother will come and talk to you before 
she goes out to dinner.” 

Presently, she heard a sort of sob, so she got up quickly 
and went over to the basket chair. Christabel’s face was buried 
in the red cushions, and they were quite damp and stained with 
her tears. Nurse felt extremely sorry. 

She took Chris up in her arms, and petted and fondled 
her, and begged her to be a good girl when Mother came, 
and say she was sorry; and Chris went on crying quietly all 
through Nurse’s long speech, and the story of “ Puss in Boots,” 
which she told her afterwards. At seven o’clock Nurse un¬ 
dressed her by the fire, and put on her white flannel night gown, 
and heard her prayers, and had just settled down to warm her 
feet, when Mother came in dressed for her dinner party, in a 
long black velvet dress, looking lovely, at least so Chris thought. 
She came over and knelt beside the fire, and took Chris’s two 
soft, cold feet into her hands. 

“Have you anything to say to me, darling? ” she asked. " 

Now Chris wanted really to climb into those kind arms and 
lay her poor, little, tearful face on the black velvet shoulder, but 
it seemed as if a silly, naughty spirit held her back. 



Cbristabel’s face was buried iu the red cushions, 
and they were quite damp and stained 
with her tears. 








36 


CHRISTABEL’S WISH. 


“ I haven’t got anything to say/’ she murmured. 

“ Is there no one you want to see to-night ? ” said Mother 
again; “ think, Chris, before you speak.” 

“ I don’t want to see anyone but Nurse and you,” said 
Chris. 

“ Kemember, darling, in five minutes it will be too late. 
Mothers are a kind of fairies, you know, and they sometimes 
bring people you particularly want to see; but after I go away 
now, nothing can happen before to-morrow morning.” 

“ I don’t want—anything,” said Christabel faintly. 

“ Very well,” said Mother with a little sigh, and rising from 
her knees, “ I am sorry, Chris—more sorry than I can say. Are 
you sorry, too?” 

“ No, I’m not sorry,” said Chris. 

“ Well—good night,” said Mother, “ nothing—or no one— 
can come now before to-morrow morning.” She stooped and 
kissed a row of neat curls, which was all she could see of Chris’s 
head, and then she went sorrowfully away, shutting the door 
behind her. 

“ I am very sorry indeed,” she said, a minute afterwards, to 
an eager little face that met her in the passage, with tearful eyes 
and a trembling mouth. “ She won’t say she is sorry, and I 
cannot wait any longer.” 

* * * * * * 

After Mother left, Nurse lifted Christabel in her arms, and 
laid her gently in her crib. She nestled down into the pillows 
at once, with her eyes tightly shut, but it made Nurse unhappy 
to hear her sob. 

“ Pray don’t cry any more, Miss Christabel,” she said; 
“ I can’t bear to hear you. I’ll sit beside you, and pat you a bit, 
and you can just go to sleep, and waken bright and early in the 
morning.” 


CHRISTABEL’S WISH. 


37 


Chris stretched out a soft, hot, little hand, and Nurse held 
it very fast. Once or twice she thought she saw her lips move, 
and bent over her, but it was only just as she was falling asleep 
that she started up and spoke eagerly: 

“ Are you there, Nursie? I dreamed it was the horrid day 
again. I wish —I wish —” 

“What do you wish, dear?” said Nurse, bending over 
her, but Christabel was half asleep. She held Nurse’s hand 
very tight, as she slipped back on to the pillow, and in 
another moment she was breathing quite gently, for she had 
fallen asleep. 

IV. 

It was not much after six next morning, when Mother 
was awakened by the pattering of feet on the carpet of 
her room. She raised herself on her elbow, and, in the 
half-light she saw Martin creeping about softly and standing on 
tiptoe to look in the looking-glass. He put on his clothes in 
rather an uncomfortable fashion, but managed at last to finish 
dressing, and, when he was satisfied that he was fairly tidy, he 
crept to the door and opened it. 

A flood of yellow light met him in the passage, in 
which he stood for a minute, blinking like an owl, before 
he went softly pattering away to the nursery opposite. Mother 
sat up in bed, smiling to herself, and listening. She heard the 
nursery door open gently, and there was a moment’s breathless 
silence; then there was a cry of joy, and muffled voices speaking 
eagerly. 

“ I won’t never blow—” 

“ I won’t never be cross any more—” 

When she had heard as far as that, she cuddled down under 
the clothes, and went to sleep again. 



“"IVTOW, do be careful/’ said Mother, as we got 
-i-^ pony cart, and Fred gathered up the reins. 


into the 
“ I don’t 

think you can make any mistakes, though, for everything is 
written down.” 

“ It is wonderful what they can do in that way,” said 
Father. “ But look here, Fred,” he added seriously, “if you 
don’t soon show you have a head on your shoulders, I 
shall have to pack you off to school in London, as I have said 
before.” 

“ My wools,” called Aunt Maria from the parlor window. 
“Match them right, whatever you do! ” 

“ Oh, could you bring me a small packet of carbonate of 
soda, and some stone blue? I forgot I was out of them,” cried 
Agnes, our rosy-faced servant, running round to my side. 

“All right,” I said; “we’ll remember that.” 

“Tweets! tweets!” repeated three-year-old Tot, who stood 
at the door to see us off. “ Tocolates! ” 

38 



HOW IT CAME ABOUT. 


39 


“ Those small drops/’ reminded Mother, as we now made 
a start. 

“ I don’t think we can go far wrong to-day,” I said 
to Fred; “ let ns look at the list once more; ‘ Account-hook ’— 
that’s Father’s; ‘Wools, pink and green’—that’s Aunt’s; ‘Call 
at library ’—for Mother; ‘ Tot’s sweets ’; and what was it Agnes 
wanted? ” 

“ Something about a blue stone,” suggested Fred. 

“No, a stone of blue, I think! ” said I. 

“ That’s all the same! ” cried Fred. 

“ It isn’t,” said I, “ and besides, I believe it was soda she 
wanted. Never mind; I daresay it will come into our heads 
as we go along.” 

“ I have brought my sketch book and colors,” Fred said 
presently; “there’s such a lovely corner in the field, just 
before we get to the town, which I have often wanted to 
sketch. We can rest the pony there, and have a good hour; 
that will leave heaps of time for the shopping and getting 
back.” 

“Very well,” I agreed; “though why not do the shopping 
first?” 

“ We’ll see,” answered Fred. “ I say, Alice, do you think 
Father is in earnest about that school? ” 

“I’m afraid so, Fred; I heard him telling Mother that it 
would never do to let you be such a dunce at figures, for you 
would have to earn your living by them.” 

“ Hateful things! ” remarked Fred. “ IIow I detest them! ” 

“ Yes, I know,” I added soothingly. 

“ I should like to be a pupil at that large studio I have 
told you of. I’d soon show I was good for something,” sighed 
Fred. “ But here we are near that pretty corner I spoke of. 


40 


HOW IT CAME ABOUT. 


See, just back from the road; so out we get! What quan¬ 
tities of poppies and large white daisies there are about. 
Don’t run away, Alice; I am going to put you in the 
picture.” 

Leaving Fred .to look after the pony, I was soon busy in 
the tall grass, gathering flowers. 

“ There! ” he cried. “Keep still, just as you are. I shall 
make a good-sized sketch of your head alone. I believe it will 
be the best I shall have done of you.” 

“ But the shopping,” I began. 

“ There is plenty of time for that; do let us stop here,” he 
said. So I gave in, rather willingly indeed, and Fred went to 
work on me and my wild flowers. 

But the time was passing, and at length I suggested to 
Fred that he had better finish the sketch at home, for we ought 
to be getting on with our shopping. 

“ Ko, no, Alice!” he said, “only a few minutes more!” 
And on he went desperately, dashing, dabbing, and touching 
up; then presently he came and held the sketch before me. 

“Is that me? ” I said in astonishment. “I never thought 
it would be so nice. You dear, clever, darling Fred. You will 
give it to me to keep, won’t you? ” 

“ I don’t know about that,” said Fred. 

An idea struck me at that moment, but before I had time 
to think it out, Fred cried, “Where’s Queenie? ” 

“Round the corner, of course,” said I; but I felt rather 
frightened as we ran to look, and sure enough there was neither 
Queenie nor the cart. 

“ I saw her a few moments ago! ” I gasped. 

“ Why did we not tie her up? ” said Fred. “ I guess how 
it is; she was tired of waiting, and while we were looking at the 





I ■} 




“ There! ” cried Fred. “ Keep still, just as 
you are. I shall make a good-sized 
sketch of your head alone.” 




42 


HOW IT CAME ABOUT. 


drawing she edged away round the bend of the road, and has 
gone quietly home.” 

I gathered up the painting materials, while Fred raced back 
in chase of the pony, but he soon returned. 

“ Can’t see a trace! ” he said; “ the road winds, you know. 
All I hope is, she won’t run against anything. 

“ Well,” I said, “ we must make the best of it; do the shop¬ 
ping and walk home.” 

This was only the first of our troubles. “ Ilullo! what 
about the list?” exclaimed Fred. 

“ It was in the cart,” I said helplessly. 

“ Well, come on! ” he said; “ it’s no use standing here; there 
were not many things to remember.” 

We soon reached the High Street, and were in sight of the 
library, when I asked: “Fred, wdiat was the book Mother 
wanted? ” 

“ I don’t know,” he said; “ but it would be all the same, 
anyway; see, the shop is closed.” 

“ Then it must be after seven,” I said. “ Thank goodness 
the post office is open.” This was a handy shop, where they 
sold most things. We went in. 

“Don’t forget the blue stone that’s not on the list,” said 
Fred. 

“ It was a stone of blue, I’m positive,” said I. “ Does that 
sound right?” I appealed to the man behind the counter. 

“It do seem a good deal, miss,” he said. “We generally 
sell a ball or two at a time. You don’t mean soda now, do 
you? ” 

“Soda! ” I repeated. “Yes, I believe she did sajr some¬ 
thing about soda. Give us that, please.” 

“ You can’t take a stone with you, missie,” lie said. “ ItV 


HOW IT CAME ABOUT. 


43 



fourteen pounds. I am sending your way early to-morrow, and 
it shall be left at the cottage.” 

“Yes, yes!” said Fred; “that will do. We must not 
waste any more time. Now for Father’s book. What did he 
call it? ” 


lines.” 

“ You mean an exercise-book,” said the man. “ Ftere you 
are; I have only the one kind.” 

“%1 now for some wools,” I said; “pink and green. 
I have the patterns in my purse. Be quick, please; we are in a 
fearful hurry.” 


44 


HOW IT CAME ABOUT. 


The man searched for the colors, and when he had found 
those that appeared to be of the same shade he took them to the 
door to catch the last of the fading, light. 

“ You ought to have come before dusk / 7 he said, “ for 
matching! 77 

“These look right , 77 said I, putting my.patterns, against 
them. “ Give me six ounces of each . 77 He hastily wrapped 
them up, while we counted out the money, and we were rushing 
away when Fred said: 

“ Bother! Tot’s sweets; we can’t wait to have them weighed. 
How much is this, bar of chocolate ? 77 

“ Fourpence, sir.” 

“ That will do! 77 cried Fred, seizing it, and throwing down 
the pence. “ We must run now, Alice . 77 

And run we did, never stopping till we reached home. 

There stood Queenie, quiet as a lamb, outside our gate. 
The garden path was long, so fortunately they had not heard 
her arrive, or they would have been alarmed at seeing the empty 
cart. We called to the boy to take her to the stable, and then 
went in by the back entrance. 

We felt rather uncomfortable as we walked into the parlor. 

Still, after all, everything seemed pretty right, with one or 
two exceptions. 

We thought we would begin with the best. 

“Here is your wool, Aunt. And, Father, is this right?” 

“ Where did you get this stupid thing ? 77 asked he. “ I 
wrote account book, distinctly.” 

“At the post office,” said Fred, quaking. “ They had no 
other sort.” 

“And why not at the library, where they keep decent sta¬ 
tionery? ” 

J Lore. 


HOW IT CAME ABOUT. 


45 


“ It was shut.” 

“ Shut! at six 
o’clock? ” 

“ It was past 
seven when we got 
there.” 

“ Then what had 
you been doing all that 
while? And let me tell 
you it is long past the hour 
when we expected you 
home.” 

“ I stopped to take a 
sketch, and it got late.” 

iC Well, well!” said Father sternly. “ I have not patience to 
talk to you, sir; and I’m surprised at you , Alice.” 

“ We’re very sorry,” I began; and I glanced gratefully at 
Mother, who said not a word about her book, though I could see 
she was vexed. 

“ This is not green; it’s blue. And where’s the other? 
Oh, dear! were there ever such children? Do you call this 
pink? It’s bright magenta! If there is a color I dislike, it’s 
magenta. FTow, I can’t begin the slippers to-night.” 

“ I’ll change it to-morrow, Aunt,” I said. 

“ At any rate, the soda’s all right,” cried Fred. 

“ Where is it, please?” asked Agnes, putting her head in 
at the door. “ I want to use some.” 

“ It’s coming,” answered Fred. “ You could not expect us 
to bring all that! ” 

“ All what? ” said Mother. 



46 


HOW IT CAME ABOUT. 


“ The man said a stone was fourteen pounds, and that he 
would send it in the morning / 7 I said, feeling now that all was 
lost. 

Agnes lifted up her hands. “ I never heard a better than 
that! 77 she said; “ and me wanting a little carbonate to raise the 
supper cakes . 77 

“ Tot 7 s the only one that’s satisfied , 77 remarked Fred, in an 
injured tone. 

“ Look at him ! 77 cried Aunt Maria. “ Look at his pinafore; 
look at his face! 77 

That young man was sitting in a corner, busily engaged on 
the bar of chocolate. 

“ You may go to your room, Fred ! 77 said Father; “ and you 
are not to come out of it all to-morrow . 77 

“ Dear Dad! 77 I said, when Fred had gone, “ do forgive us 
both . 77 

“ I am very angry indeed , 77 said Father; “ but Fred shall go 
to school next week, and you will do better without him. I never 
knew you to be so careless, Alice . 77 

“We were wrong in stopping, Dad , 77 I said; “but really, 
after that, everything went queer of itself; one bother led to 
another. And you don’t know how clever Fred is! 77 

“Clever? Nonsense, Alice! I fear he will not become 
brilliant, even at school. If he only had the gift he thinks he 
has, I would let him have a year to try, at the studio . 77 

“Oh, Dad, would you ? 77 I cried joyfully; “then wait a 
moment . 77 And I fetched Fred’s sketch and brought it to him. 

Father seized it, and held it before him for a time, without 
speaking. Then he said, “Alice, what is the meaning of this? 
IIow did you come by it ? 77 

Before I could answer Mother entered. 


HOW IT CAME ABOUT. 


47 


“ You have had this done as a surprise for me, my dear, 
haven’t you? ” he asked her. 

“ I know nothing about it,” she said. “ But how lovely l 
Can it be Fred who-” 

“ Fred! ” interrupted the Father. “ I wish it were.” 

I could no longer keep quiet. “ He did do it, Father. 
This is Fred’s work; he did it while we were out in the field 
to-day.” 

“ There! ” cried Mother, overjoyed; “ I guessed it. This is 
our Fred’s doing.” 

I hardly ever saw Father look so surprised and pleased. 

“ Who would have believed it?” he said. “ Stop, Alice. 
What are you going to do with it? ” for I had taken it gently 
out of his hand 
and was moving 
toward the door. 

“ To give it 
to Fred,” I said. 

“ It is his; he did 
it on purpose to 
take away with 
him to school.” 

Then came 
what I expected. 

“ He shall 
not go to school. 

Of course not, if 
he can do work 
like this. He shall 
have his wish 
atjput the studio, 




48 


HOW IT CAME ABOUT. 




and afterwards a year or two abroad, if I can manage it. Dear 
me, he’s a clever boy after all!” 

I laid the drawing on the table and gave Dad a good 

hug. 

" I shall call him down,” said Mother. " I think we must 
forgive him this once, don’t you? ” 

"Very well,” said Father, "if he promises to be more 
•careful for the future, and to do what he is told.” 

So Fred came in looking very happy; and Mother and 
I felt glad indeed to hear Father praise him and promise he 
should attend the studio at once. 

Then the picture had to be shown to Aunt Maria, and even 
Agnes and Tot came to have a peep. 

****** 

So all ended well, and after studying hard here for 
two years, Fred is now in Italy, getting more perfect in 
the calling he has chosen. We miss him, but are looking 
forward to his return, and scarcely know which of us is proudest 
of him. 

Fie still has the sketch of me taken on that eventful day 
—eventful in more ways than one, for I think it saw the end 
of our careless and wild habits, as well as the beginning of 
Fred’s success. 








































♦ 4 












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OCT 27 1900 



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